Duties
by preusterreich
Summary: Gilbert admires Rebekka's current state. Rebekka, on the other hand, does not. Pru/Fem!Aus


This is just a short drabble involving some cutesy family-esque Pru/Fem!Aus fluff written in one of my favourite AUs: Regency! historical romance ftw  
Fun fact: This story actually started off more M-rated, but I overhauled it to be complete fluff. Told from Rebekka's POV.

* * *

It's a perfect day to play a piece on the piano. I move to the window and open it a crack to let the fresh air in. The curtains ruffle in the slight breeze. I take a seat on the bench in as comfortable a position that I can manage. I begin to play one of my favourite pieces, Pachelbel's Canon*. It's a simple piece, but still beautiful and my favourite to play on a day like today.

I hear someone enter the room, and I immediately know that it's Gilbert. Only he would enter a room already occupied without announcing himself. I feel his presence nearing me. He must have been drawn by the music. Soon, he's so close the I can feel his body heat mingle with mine, but I continue to play.

He sets his hands on my shoulders. Gently moving my long, chestnut hair to the side, he kisses my neck lightly. My hands waver, and I want to stop and share this moment with him, but he has another idea.

"No, Rebekka, don't stop," he breathes. "Not yet."

His voice sends a wave of heat through me, but I begin to play again. Sometimes it's difficult to hit notes because my newly swollen stomach and breasts are now in the way. Yes, I am ripe with his seed, and the seed is almost ready to break through the ground to greet the sun. I am so close.

He moves my gown off my shoulder slightly and kisses there. He is caressing my stomach, whispering endearments between breaths.

"Beautiful,"

His lips trail over my skin.

"enchanting,"

He spreads his palm wide over my womb, protecting the life inside.

"goddess."

I blush and cover his hand with mine, halting my playing once again. "Gilbert, please." I breathe.

"Yes, my lady?" He whispers. His platinum hair brushes my cheek.

I move to stand and face him, and he is immediately helping me up from the piano bench.

His cheeks are pink with exertion, his hair wild. His boots are muddy, his cravat is askew, and his jacket is rumpled slightly; he must have been riding. His eyes shine from the exercise. The scent of him is making my heart race. It's his cologne and sweat and leather, and it's perfection.

My cheeks redden to match his, albeit for a different reason. "What are you up to, Gilbert? You didn't just come here to see me." Instantly, his arms are around my waist, and he kisses my cheek. He still dwarfs me in his grip, even with my stomach so distended.

"You're right. I didn't just come to see you."

I feel sad for a moment.

"I also came to listen to your playing and to tell you how much I love you. Also, to admire your beauty." He flashes me the roguish grin that I fell for all those months ago.

I scoff. "I'm not so beautiful at this moment."

Now he's the one who scoffs, and he peeks down at my belly. "This?" He rubs my stomach through the gown.

I nod.

"Nonsense. You are far more beautiful now than I could have ever imagined." He looks into my eyes, and there's a beautiful emotion pooled in their scarlet depths. "Your skin glows with life, your hair is soft as silk, and your eyes have a beautiful sparkle to them. I don't want to imagine any other woman carrying my child."

He always knows exactly what to say. I stroke his cheek gently. "Thank you, Gilbert. You always know how to make me feel better."

He chuckles. "That's my job, is it not? I acquired it when I took on my duties as your husband, yes?"

"It is _one_ of your duties."

I pull him down toward me by his cravat, and his mouth is immediately on mine, passionate, claiming. He's holding me, kissing me as though I am not already his, as though we are not already married, and as though I am not already pregnant with his child.

He need not worry; I love him. I could not imagine being with anyone else. He is my heart, my soul. He breaks the kiss. His eyes bore into mine, and I know what he's feeling. He has lost so much in his life, but he won't lose me. I brush his cheek gently with my finger and smile. He hasn't shaved today, his skin rough with wiry hair. Some women like their men to keep clean shaven, but I don't mind. I love Gilbert any way he decides to carry himself.

He smiles and places another kiss on my cheek as our fingers entwine.

* * *

*Pachelbel's Canon was actually lost during this time and was not re-discovered until the early 1900s, so Rebekka would not have known it, but I really love the song and decided to include it anyway.

Thank you for reading! :)


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